Page 67 of Johnny Gun

It was actually entertaining to watch his prez sweating it out to find an opening with Barron, while Blade kept sending him warning glances to cool his jets. The final blow fell at the end. Barron and hiswife left soon after dessert. His prez wasn’t happy. Deacon was a driven man. Once he got an idea or had a goal between the crosshairs, he didn’t stop until he completed what he had in mind. Tonight, Deacon went to bed frustrated.

And Gomez couldn’t get a wink in. He turned over once more and gave up. Trying to fall asleep was boring, and he couldn’t stand to stay in bed another minute.

If he went out to the yard, a little fresh air might help, or maybe he could watch TV in the common room. He stepped into his jeans and pulled on the same shirt he’d used for the restaurant. But the shirt reeked of pizza and oregano, and it turned his stomach. Tossing it aside, he wore his cut instead, then glanced at his watch. No one should be awake at two a.m.

Slowly, he padded out to the hallway on bare feet and made it to the common room without running into anyone. As he searched for the remote, he noticed a strange, soft glow on the porch. The illumination was low, level with the steps, and not coming from the overhead light.

Frowning, he opened the door. Trent was sitting on the top step. Hunched over, his friend was so focused on…voices streaming from his phone, he didn’t hear Gomez walk out.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Trent jerked. “Motherfucker,” he hissed. “Don’t sneak up on people.” Quickly, he put the phone on his lap.

Gomez got closer. Shifting over his friend’s shoulder, he attempted to get a better look. Whatever it was, Trent didn’t want him to see it.

“What is it?” Gomez insisted.

“Lower your voice, for Chrissakes. You’re gonna wake up the whole clubhouse.”

Pressing his lips into a firm line, Gomez shook his head. He’d kept his voice low and they were outside. Whatever Trent was keeping from him was also making him paranoid.

“I didn’t raise my voice. You’re obviously hiding something.” He reached for Trent’s phone. “Show me.”

Holding his phone away, Trent stood. He went down the steps to the yard, waving at Gomez to follow. “Over here. This is safe enough.”

“Safe? Geez, such a big mystery. What is it? Are you watching porn?”

“Porn?” Trent laughed. “Fuck no, man. I’m listening to something way more interesting.”

“Such as?”

Lifting a corner of his lips, Trent sneered. When he spoke, his voice dripped with malice. “Don’t you wanna know where Johnny Gun and Isolde are hiding out?”

“Give me that!” Gomez snatched the phone before Trent could stop him. The screen was dark except for an audio window in play mode. He stared at Trent. “What the fuck did you do?”

“Hit the Stop button and rewind the recording. You can listen to it.”

“What am I listening to?”

“That’s a recording of Blade on the phone talking to someone. I believe it’s Barron. The conversation took place after dinner.”

“How did you get it?”

“When y’all went to dinner.”

“The stomach bug?”

He grinned. “Uh-huh. I jimmied the lock on Blade’s door and put my listening device behind a photo. The bug is small but powerful. I wasn’t sure when I’d hit pay dirt, but I knew Blade or whoever he’s working with would spill the beans eventually. It happened tonight. Go ahead and listen to the recording.”

“How long have you planned this?”

“Not long. I got the idea right after Deacon mentioned riding south. This was the sure way of discovering their hideout.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

Trent shrugged. “Why would I? I’m my own man. Go ahead, listen.”

Gomez hit the Play button. Blade’s voice came through. The conversation was one-sided, but he could figure out what was being discussed. Then it came:

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